Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine #4 by Marvin Kaye

Author:Marvin Kaye [Kaye, Marvin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: mystery, sleuth, detective, murder, Sherlock Holmes
ISBN: 9781434437327
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2014-02-15T05:00:00+00:00

“I will be,” I told her, “if I drink too much.”

Her smile flashed brighter and was highlighted by a full, throaty laugh. Then she asked, “Now, what can I do to get you started drinking?”

“Scotch on the rocks is a good way to go.”

“You’ve got it.”

“Is Barry around?”

She shook her head and set up my drink. “Hasn’t been in yet.”

I thanked her, sipped some scotch and studied the crowd from a professional standpoint, what you might call an owner’s point of view. It wasn’t long before I spotted some strange goings-on. I noticed a tall, thin gentleman of olive complexion prancing in and out of the kitchen, which was located in a room to the side at the end of the bar. He brought out dishes of chips and pretzels, which the lady bartender distributed. He also made very frequent trips to the men’s room, which was next to the lady’s room across the floor from the kitchen.

During the course of an hour, I saw three new customers enter the bar. Within minutes of each arrival, Olive Skin would saunter into the gentleman’s lavatory, stay briefly, then return to the kitchen. The recently arrived patron would soon make for the john himself. When he returned, Olive Skin would go back in.

I slowly nursed another two drinks and noticed the same thing happen when two young females walked in. While they sipped their drinks at the bar, Olive Skin returned to the men’s room. When he came back, a young man sitting alone at a table went to the john then came back and sat down. Minutes later, the young ladies at the bar waved to the loner and acted as if they were surprised to see him. He seemed just as astonished at their presence and motioned them to join him at the table. Meanwhile, Olive Skin went back to the can. So I got up, walked over to the pay phone located in the alcove between the bar’s double door entrance and dialed Barry Connors’ home number. When he didn’t answer, I returned to the bar, paid for my drinks and left.

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